


At Will

by MayQueen517



Category: The Hobbit (2012) RPF
Genre: I Don't Even Know, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-04
Updated: 2013-02-04
Packaged: 2017-11-28 04:37:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/670357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MayQueen517/pseuds/MayQueen517
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Graham glares at him, scrubbing his hands over the sink. Adam isn't noticing those hands; nope. Not at all. Why would he ever notice Graham's hands like that? Not this fellow; not him indeed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	At Will

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lamentforboromir](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lamentforboromir/gifts).



> So, uh. I don't really have an excuse other than this started from a conversation about hands? And developed into this. This is my first time writing any of this cast, so be gentle.
> 
> This takes place after filming the barrel scene, because the cast were actually covered in fish during the shooting. And eurgh.
> 
> Interestingly enough, lemon is a really good way to get rid of the smell of fish.

"Come near me with those hands and I will hit you with my axe," he says, rough and annoyed as Adam grins, wiggling his fingers.

"Don't like it, then?" he asks. Graham glares at him, scrubbing his hands over the sink. Adam isn't noticing those hands; nope. Not at all. Why would he ever notice Graham's hands like that? Not this fellow; not him indeed.

"I have smelled like those bloody fucking fish for three days," Graham says, grumpy and annoyed. Adam can't help but grin. He reaches over, getting his hand slapped away for his trouble. He snickers, darting to the other side to push his hand into Graham's face. The other stays behind his back for a moment before Graham's own hand darts out, encasing his wrist totally. And there's this moment; this moment that Adam would have to be deaf, dumb, and blind to not notice. 

"I said don't touch me," Graham says, low and rough like always. There's a thread of something else there and Adam blinks slowly, feeling heat curl in his gut. 

"Not even if I have this?" he says softly, holding up the container of lemon juice innocently. Graham blinks, still holding onto Adam's wrist and god, Adam is kind of struck by how large Graham's hand is. How has he not noticed that? Surely he noticed it at the Rivendell shoot when Graham had shoved at him in the scene.

Maybe not.

"And what's that, then?" Graham asks, relaxing enough to lean back against the sink, still holding Adam's wrist. His grip is tight, but not tight enough to be a bother (well, not a bother _there_ ) and Adam clears his throat.

"Lemon juice. B.K. said it'll get the smell of fish off," he says and this frisson of tension hanging in the air has definitely gotten thicker. Definitely a whole lot thicker, he thinks, watching Graham's eyes stare at the lemon juice. He looks speculative before he rubs his thumb over the thin skin on Adam's inner wrist, a quick and easy smile spreading across his face.

"Always prepared then, are you?"

"I could be," he says and Graham's grin turns positively wolfish as he gently takes the lemon juice. 

"I bet so," he replies quietly, voice dark and full of promise in a way that has Adam swallowing hard. Graham tracks the movement before they lock eyes and it's like any other time and Adam turns his hand so he can maneuver his own hand to grab Graham's wrist.

"Meet me for dinner and I'll show you," Adam says, grinning when Graham squeezes his wrist.

"I'll hold you to that," Graham says, the quiet of the trailer less suffocating and more promising as he gently lets go, turning back to the sink with the lemon juice.

The razor sharp scent of lemons soon fills the trailer and Adam can't help but crowd closer, letting the scent overwhelm him until Graham's finished. They meet eyes and Adam, easy and bold at the same time pushes himself forward, pressing their lips together.

It's clumsy, at first, before Graham exhales in a huff of air, amused. He shifts, lifting his hands until they can guide him down, letting Graham capture his lips in a haze of rough stubble, chapped lips, and the scent of lemons all around them.

Adam's breath leaves him without warning, Graham's lazy kissing stealing it from him. Adam presses closer, letting his fingers rub against the stubble on Graham's cheeks. When they part, Graham's eyes are dark and hooded and they share a grin.

"Tonight, then?" Graham asks as Adam clears his throat, nodding.

"Tonight," he promises.


End file.
